Melina
by mcwheatley
Summary: A sister returned. But she has changed and will she change those around her? Rated for possible violence and mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Of course I do not own anything remotely connected to King Arthur. I will draw upon them at will, but own no rights. They are merely serving as my latest plot bunny. No infringement is intended. All original characters and the storyline are mine, however, an purely fictitious. You can sue all you want, but I have no money.**

Summary: A sister returned. She has changed and will she change those around her? Rated for possible violence and mature themes.

A/N: This is a plot bunny that has been rather persistant. I want to thank my good friend C.J. who has listened to all the possibilities this story may go through. This is a true work in progress as it may take any direction at any time. I won't tell you who the pairing is because anyone who knows me, know already.

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**Melina** - Chapter One

0o0o0o

The first thing Melina noticed was the dappled war horse that was standing in the path. Seeming to block everything that may move that way. It's nose was bent down, pushing at the heavily fallen snow. It didn't even seem to have noticed her yet. Or had and couldn't be bothered.

But, what would such a beast be alone on a heavily traveled path? Fully tacked and just idling around?

Kicking her own horse, she encouraged him to move quicker. Bacchus' hooves slipping on the snow just a bit. Not much to cause any imbalance. The large gelding was sure of foot and the snow didn't bother him in the least.

Coming closer to the dapple, Melina then noticed the figure propped up against a nearby tree. It looked like a man. One that seemed to be wounded as he had one of his hands against his shoulder. He didn't look as though he was unconscious, he moved his head away from the tree as he must have heard her coming toward him.

From what she could see, he had been there for a good while. The snow had fallen more and his dark hair was covered.

She stopped Bacchus a good distance away from the injured man. Not sure that he was friend of foe, she pulled out her long dagger. Holding the blade pointed toward the ground.

The dark haired man did the same, pulling a long bladed sword into his lap. Though he made no move to get up, his eyes never left her as she made her way to him. From what she could see of his face, it was calculating. Obviously deciding if she were friend or foe.

Melina didn't say anything as she came upon the injured man. She was also deciding if he would hurt her. Standing still and quiet for several minutes, she finally decided that he was really in no shape to do her much harm.

"Will you live?" There was no point in asking the man if he was okay. It was obvious that he wasn't. It was just a matter of weather or not he would survive this injury. "Will you live?" She asked him again when he didn't respond to her.

"Aye. Tis but a scratch."

It wasn't, but she wasn't going to press the matter.

"Can you ride back to where you came from?" There was no way he would survive if he stayed where he was. Night was setting in and from experience, she knew that ghosts inhabited the woods.

The man against the tree grunted, trying to get up. But a gasp of pain sent him back again. "Not by myself." His voice sounded angry. Almost like he didn't want to admit that he was weakened.

Melina made up her mind that this man needed assistance. "How far are you away from home?"

"To many miles to bother counting."

Ah. So he wasn't a local. His accent and the obvious absence of the blue tattoos told her that he wasn't one of the wild tribes that frequently lived among the woods. And he had made no attempt at hurting yet, so she figured he was some kind of soldier.

If that was the case, then his commander would want his man back.

"Let me help you."

"I don't think you can."

Melina snorted at the man's stubbornness. "You can't stay here, you are bleeding to much and it's getting dark."

"It's no business of yours." This time the man did look up and Melina could see a bit of stubbornness in those dark eyes.

She really should just leave him there to rot. He was right, his well being was no concern of hers. But her sense of what was right wouldn't let her. "Look, mister. I don't want you to freeze to death nor do I want you to be caught by the ghosts of the forest."

Melina whistled and the huge gelding trotted to her, waiting for his next command. She held her hand out to the dark haired man, offering to help him up. She was slightly surprised when he took her offer of help.

Her skin burned when his hands grasped hers, sending shivers that were completely unrelated to the cold up her arm.

Obviously, the man felt it also as his face turned sharply to hers. His eyes becoming smokey, his mouth set in a thin line. He quickly pulled his hand from hers, then grabbing the saddle straps of Bacchus' tack to hold himself steady.

"I can't ride alone."

"Then you can ride with me. My horse can carry us both."

The injured man looked at her for a long moment before deciding that it was true. Or at least worth the try. Grunting his agreement, he moved closer to the horse's side.

It took longer than she would have liked to get the man onto her horse and settled into the saddle. He was heavier than he looked and that shoulder wound had started bleeding again. But, soon enough he was up. Slumped over the pummel and staring at something. He looked like he was trying to hide what he was feeling. His eyes squinted shut at one point and his breathing became a bit more labored.

And at that moment, Melina was certain it was pain.

Melina pulled out an scrap of a thick woolen material. It usually served as a scarf in this kind of weather, but she decided that this man needed it to help stop the flowing blood more than she needed to keep warm. His face had gone greyer and he had started shivering. The blood loss was starting to catch up with him and they needed to hurry.

Quickly, she tied his warhorse's lead to her own saddle and climbed up behind the man. Her shorter arms barely reaching around him to grasp her own mount's reins.

A thought occurred to her as she kicked Bacchus into motion. "I don't know the way."

The man in front of her took in a deep breath, a hiss coming out at it obviously hurt to do so.

"Just follow this path until you get to the wall." He murmured before he fell silent again.

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A/N: Okay folks. I again put my fragile heart and mind into your loving hands. Thoughts and comments are welcomed but flames will be doused with snow. Oh, C.J.? Thank you for the use of your daughter's name. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Of course I do not own anything remotely connected to King Arthur. I will draw upon them at will, but own no rights. They are merely serving as my latest plot bunny. No infringement is intended. All original characters and the storyline are mine, however, an purely fictitious. You can sue all you want, but I have no money.**

A/N: I am saddened that I cannot reply to individual reviews here. I had always thought it fun to read what others had thought. Anyway, I thank you all and was pleasantly surprised at the reaction this one has gotten.

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Melina - Chapter Two

Night had fallen by the time Melina reached the wall fort's heavy front gates. She was surprised as she hadn't met any resistance nor curious people on the way in. There were several looks, but no one stopped her as she made her way to the fort's entrance.

She tried to get someone to help her, even pleading the man's life, but no one even moved to help.

It had been harder than she ever would have imagined, trying to hold an injured man upright in front of her on a lurching beast of a horse. And another warhorse pulled behind. Her arms were hurting and her bottom was sore being perched on the edge of the saddle. Her back was nearly soaked through with the snow that had turned to rain.

"Ugh!" Melina muttered angrily as a particularly heavy drop slid down her neck, into the front of her cloak and against her already chilled skin. "I hate the rain."

"So do I." Was the muffled reply from the man in front of her.

"You!" There was a shout above their heads, along the stone wall that was the highest Melina had ever seen on any of the forts. "Down there! Stop!" Melina obliged, looking up as the man shifted. "What are you doing?"

Melina started to say something unpleasant as the men above made no move to open the gates nor lend her any assistance. "I have an injured man here. He is in need of some assistance." Proper manners were probably in order here if she wanted to get some help.

Both Melina and the injured man listened to a bit more shouting. Most of it sounded like debates on whether to open the inner gates for them or not. The man mumbling things that Melina couldn't and didn't bother to understand.

"Just open the damn gate!" Came a loud voice. It's owner looking over the side of the wall, the rain obscuring her view of him. The only thing she saw was that he had dark hair and a set face.

There was a command given and the creaking of wood and iron was heard as the massive gate opened. There was squelching of mud and splashing of puddles as a tall, blonde headed man ran out toward them.

"Ho! It's Tristan!" The blonde shouted. "Dagonet!" He had made it to them and started to pull Tristan off the horse, but decided to wait for help. More damage would be done if he tried to do it himself. And Dag was larger and stronger. He looked at Melina with curiosity. "Do I know you Lady?"

Melina shook her head. "I don't think so. I've never been here before." She didn't smile and she didn't look him directly in the eyes. There was no need to. She was only her to deliver some papers and get some in return.

She was not here to make nice with the locals.

Suddenly, in the rush of more men arriving, Melina was forgotten for a while. It took three of them to remove Tristan from in front of her and to safely move him inside the fort. Not one of them made and move to make conversation with her. Nor did any give her anything but a passing look, for which she was grateful.

She couldn't afford the attentions of any men right now.

Sliding off Bacchus, she nearly lost her balance as her legs started to give way. A quick grab onto the saddle strap prevented her from sinking into the wretched mud and water.

When she was sure her legs would carry her, she grabbed Bacchus' reins and followed the crowd, hoping to find whom she was looking for to begin with and to dry off and maybe find a warm bed for the night.

0o0o0o

Melina was ushered into a large room, by the looks of it, the fort's Great Hall. All the forts and command posts had them and this one was no different than the rest.

It was huge. With a wall length fireplace at one end and several doors leading off from the opposite side. Melina would hazzard to guess that there were probably hidden doors also, covered by the heavy red draperies that hung ceiling to floor. Heavy iron candle holders weremounted on the walls at varying intervals. All lit to make this dark room brighter in the dark and wet night.

There were tables spread about, all with wooden chairs. A larger chair centered in the midst of them all.

She hadn't been allowed to take off her wet cloak and now stood shivering and dripping on the stone floor of the hall. The room wasn't particularly cold, in fact, it was warm with the huge fireplace spitting ashes and sparks. It was interesting that this stone floor was swept clean and bare. Most of the meeting halls were mostly covered in rushes and straw.

But, being soaking wet and tired, Melina shuffled her feet in an attempt to keep warm while she waited for the fort's commander. Whom she had business with.

A man by the name of Arthur Castus.

Said man soon entered from one of the side doors. Holding two cups of steaming liquid. "Please sit." He motioned to one of the smaller tables. "My name is Arthur Castus." Handing her one of the cups when she sat down. A weary sigh leaving her mouth that caused Arthur to smile at her.

Melina gratefully sat down, shrugging off her cloak behind her. She took the offered cup and held it for a moment, letting theheated clay warm her cold fingers. She took a sniff of the steaming liquid, not really wanting wine. It dulled her senses and she wanted to stay as alert as she could. She couldn't tell what it was so she put the cup on the table but still grasped it's warmth.

Arthur looked at her like she was a little bit odd. "Don't you want a drink?"

Melina's head lifted and she gave Arthur her most respectful smile. She saw the confused look on his face. "I'm sorry sir, I don't drink wine or ale while on duty."

Arthur's appreciation of this young woman increased. He was the same in that regard. "It's only mulled cider. Nothing more."

Melina didn't answer, bringing the warming liquid to her lips and taking a sip. It was good enough that she took a bigger drink, then sitting back a little further in her chair. She sat still, regarding the man in front of her. Just as she knew he was doing to her.

Commander Arthur Castus wasn't that old. Maybe no more than ten years older than herself. His hair was very dark and looked like it had the possibility of being curly. It was so short now, it was only waving. Melina had to stop herself from raising her hand to her own covered head.

And this man had the most startling green eyes. And right now, those eyes were watching her with such a calculating gaze.

Melina was finding it hard not to cower. He made her nervous, and she was too tired to deal with intimidating men.

"How did you happen on my knight?" His deep voice causing her thoughts back to the job at hand.

Melina cleared her throat.

"I was on my way here. To see you if your name is Arthur Castus." He nodded and Melina remembered the missive that she was to deliver to this commander. She reached into her now damp cloak, pulling out a rolled parchment, bearing the official seal of the Bishop of Rome. Just a bit crumpled and thankfully still dry. "I came to exchange this for some return dispatch."

0o0o0o

Galahad stood far back in the shadows of the public bath house and changing rooms. He had heard of the young woman who had somehow saved Tristan from a cold death. Dagonet and Lancelot had been talking of the girl as though she were some kind of enigma, a creature that haunted the dreams of men.

He had listened to the older boys talking and wanted so much to see her. Being only twelve years old, he had never seen what a naked woman looked like. The older boys saying how beautiful and mysterious a woman's body was.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him so he had followed the girl and the servant to the baths, slipping into one of the side doors and hiding among the soap barrels and hanging linens. He heard voices, slipping further back so he would not be seen.

"I'm sorry miss, but we have nothing private available."

"This is fine. I've been in much worse. And I only wish to bathe this dirt off my body and warm my bones a bit." Galahad noticed that her accent was very thick. There was definitely Roman in that soft voice, but there was something else as well. Something familiar sounding.

Bowing, the servant girl left Melina in relative privacy.

As she removed her clothing quickly, Galahad's breathing caught, causing the girl to look in his direction. He stiffened, holding his breath. Only when she seemed satisfied that no one was there, did he let out that breath.

His breathing still quickened as he continued to watch her.

This girl was facing him as she disrobed. First the deep green cloak came off, then what looked like a leather over tunic. It was light brown in color, like the color of some of the cows that roamed this land. The last layer to come off was an under tunic. This one a dirty white color.

This girl wasn't a big as Galahad thought women should be. But never having seen a naked woman before, he had nothing to compare it too. Her breasts were small, barely swinging as she bent to first take off her boots , then her woolen trews. Those also being the color of the green cloak.

Another breath came in hard as she stood up, giving Galahad a complete view of her body. He felt his body react to seeing her, his hand coming automatically to his privates as he watched.

Realizing what he was about to do, he pulled his hand away and started to turn around. But not before she took off the turban she had wrapped around her head. Her thin arms were up, having taken the end of the fabric, her unwinding had him standing still. He waited, desperately wanting to know what color her hair was.

Galahad couldn't even imagine what his face looked like when she finished unwrapping her head. He was betting that he looked like a gaping fool.

She had no hair on her head at all. It was completely bare.

Galahad stood transfixed again. Only in the next moment felt the bile rise to his throat as he saw her turn around.

On her shoulder blade was a small mark. A tattoo. It was dark, black in color. It was of four moons, showing the four different phases of the moon's cycle.

Recognition dawned on Galahad as he moved further back into the shadows, making his way out into the cold and the snow. Which was now mixed with rain. A bad omen.

As soon as he hit the cold air, Galahad lost the contents of his stomach.

The girl in the bath was his cousin, Melina.

0o0o0o

Arthur watched the young woman as she sat at the empty table. The bowl of stew uneaten as she merely turned the wooden spoon over and over in her fingers. Every few minutes, Arthur watched as she stopped the movement of the spoon, then taking a drink from the clay cup that sat next to the bowl.

She couldn't be any older than fifteen. Not any older than some of his knights that he commanded. And maybe older than one or two of them. He couldn't tell what color her hair was, it was pulled back and wrapped in a colorful scarf. She was wearing what looked like a man's shirt. The too long sleeves falling down her arms to reveal thick leather cuffs on her wrists. The leather ties hanging from the guards.

From where he was standing, it looked like she was wearing woolen trews. The fabric so dark, it was hard to tell what color they were. It was the same color of the scarf that Tristan had had tight against that arrow wound in his chest. Her boots were standard issue footwear that most men wore.

Arthur briefly wondered where she could have gotten boots that small.

It really wasn't her clothing nor her age that had captured his attention of her. It wasn't often that he saw young women at that age running dispatch between forts. But it wasn't unheard of either. Most likely, she was a displaced Sarmatian in need of work. Or a lower born civilian with hopes of finding better work.

It was her face that was most intriguing. One he had noticed when he had first met her.

It was small and round, with the eyes set apart. The palest blue that he had only seen on his young knight, Gawain. Her nose was one of those that wasn't large, tipping up on the very tip. So far he hadn't seen her smile. When she had talked, he noticed that her teeth were cleaner than most.

Cleaner than Bors or Kay kept theirs.

She looked so sad. Her innocence touched heavily by an unknown sadness.

Arthur shifted the rolled parchments he held in his hands. She had waited these two days for the documents he was about to give her. They had only arrived this past hour. There were three of them, each going to separate locations.

He walked to the table where she was sitting. His bootsteps heard by her and she rose. For someone who was probably low-born, she was very respectful. No sign of insubordination at all in her features as she looked at him or when she spoke to others.

Arthur motioned for her to sit back down. "I would like to thank you."

"For what, Sir?"

"You helped save the life of one of my knights."

"I've only done to him what I wish others would do for me in that situation." She knew that no one would ever help her if she had found herself wounded and unable to get to safety alone. She would be lucky if she wasn't raped then killed. Or killed at all. Bacchus, though the beast was loyal, wouldn't have stayed the way that knight's horse had. He would either have wandered off or been stolen by some passing bandit.

No. She really wasn't sure why she said that. Only that it was the first thing that had come to mind.

Arthur smiled at her, showing Melina white and fairly straight teeth. "I don't know about that. But, I thank you all the same."

0o0o0o

Melina knocked on the heavy wooden door, waiting for someone to answer. She stepped back a pace as she heard movement behind the door. The sounds of heavy boot steps getting louder as the came closer.

The door opened, revealing a tired looking face. The face attached to a huge, bald headed man. The one that the others had called Dagonet.

"Lady." With a slight bow of his head, he greeted her with a kind, deep voice.

"I'm leaving within the hour. May I see him before I go?" She really didn't understand why she wanted to come and see the injured man. He really was none of her concern. But the nagging in the back of her mind forced her here. To make sure that he was still living.

"Of course."

The large man stepped aside, allowing her to enter the darkened room. As Melina stepped past him, she looked back as she heard the heavy door close. The iron hinge banging as it did.

Walking inside this small room was like walking into her cell that had kept her housed most of her childhood. But, it was larger than the one that the Commander of this fort had let her sleep in. That one held only a bed and a wooden chair, while this one had not only a bed, but a small table, two chairs and a fairly good sized fireplace.

Melina got to the middle of the room before her feet could go no further.

The big man, Dagonet, placed a large hand on the small of her back, urging her on. "It's okay. You have a right to see him."

She wasn't so sure, but her curiosity was winning. Continuing to the bed, she looked down on the sleeping knight.

Tristan.

He lay on his back, his chest bared. On his chest, near his shoulder, was a thick bandage. There was blood seeping through the white material.

He didn't look that old. Not as old as the man standing beside her. No. He looked more like he was around twenty years old.

So young to be in this kind of life. To be in this kind of service. A service her brother was now in and had been for five years.

Shaking her head a bit, her eyes fell onto Tristan's exposed upper body. One that was looking very fit, covered in only a few scars.

Her eyes roamed up from his flat stomach to his lightly hairy chest. Taking in that dark hair that seemed so unruly. Matted in places, and braided in others. He had incredible long lashes, covering those closed eyes. Eyes she knew were dark. And he had tattoos on those high cheeks, marks that would distinguish him among the others.

And this man, Tristan had the most soft looking lips she had seen on a man. They were parted in sleep.

Suppressing a shudder, Melina nodded to the larger man, hurrying out the door and into the early morning light.

0o0o0o

It was several hours later that Tristan finally woke. He tried to sit up, but the throbbing pain in his shoulder caused him to lay back down.

Dagonet came over and helped the young knight drink some willow bark and valerian. A concoction to help with the pain. And to help him sleep. When Tristan settled back onto the bed again, Dag went to the fire, throwing another log into the fire and placing a black kettle in to start boiling some water. He needed to change those bandages on Tristan's chest.

He had been really lucky that girl had happened onto him. If she hadn't, the wound would have killed him if the cold hadn't of gotten him first.

"That girl was here earlier."

"Really?" Tristan wondered why she had come. He closed his eyes, bringing her face into view.

He wondered if he would see her again.

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A/N: Happy Thanksgiving all! Hope this chapter way okay for you. And a bit longer for those of you who wished it. Be warned though, the next is quite short. 


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